


Day Two: Dual Wills

by BlixaLooksCarsick



Series: Shumako Week 2k19 [2]
Category: Megami Tensei, Persona 5, Shin Megami Tensei, persona - Fandom
Genre: Battle, F/M, Love, Mementos, Power Couple, relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 18:40:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17431391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlixaLooksCarsick/pseuds/BlixaLooksCarsick
Summary: Day Two: Power CoupleThe lives of Akira Kurusu and Makoto Niijima changed forever when they found each other. Virtually every facet of their existence shined anew ever since, including their behaviour in battle.





	Day Two: Dual Wills

**Author's Note:**

> Always did feel that Mementos request about the vigilante homeless man felt a bit underdeveloped.

This was not normal. Nothing about this situation should have turned as out of the ordinary as it did. In the world of the Phantom Thieves, the notions of ‘normal’ and ‘ordinary’ carried in themselves a close meeting with the uncanny, almost on a daily basis. Still, the leader Akira Kurusu – nom de guerre: Joker – could hardly believe his eyes. Across from him, his lieutenant and lover Makoto Niijima – known and feared as Queen – shared the same thought, with two red eyes, wide open, looking back at him through her iron mask. 

Between them, their objective, a Shadow manifested in a shape not at all unfamiliar to Joker. The Battle Fiend, the fearsome Hindu Demon known as Rakshasa. Joker himself had at one point enlisted its form as a Persona in the past. That was months ago; the Phantom Thieves had grown much stronger since then. Thinking along those lines, this foe should be easily trampled underfoot by now. But that, surprisingly, has not been the case.

Around them, in the crude battlefield of an isolated space in Mementos, their teammates all lay incapacitated, spread right where they fell before the unlikely might of Rakshasa, or rather, Yohei Kiritani’s Shadow. Although Joker and Queen were the only ones still standing, their forces were almost spent. Their next attack had to be the last one, and they had better emerge victorious, otherwise the worst case scenario may unfold in the most unexpected of places.

Queen’s expression silently looked to him for guidance. Joker nodded with serenity as means of reassurance; but unbeknownst to her, most of his efforts were funnelled into clearing all anxiety from his face. A semblance of a strategy began to take form in his head, but he needed to be careful and consider the options. Whichever decision he took, he only needed to give Queen a sign. They waited for an opening, but so did Kirinati’s Shadow.

The context provided by their ally and PhanSite admin, Yuuki Mishima, had them classify this request as a top priority. Yohei Kiritani, vagabond by day, scourge of the underworld by night. Though the reasoning to his actions could be commendable from a certain, highly flexible point of view, they would most likely carry dire ramifications, and the sheer brutality of his methods when eliminating mobsters only raised the probabilities of a gang war breaking out. 

Urgency aside, the Phantom Thieves made the mistake of approaching this objective like they did so many others. The Shadows corrupted from distorted desires were invariably stronger than their more common counterpart – those that mindlessly roamed the tracks – but neither actually posed a challenge for what Ryuji “Skull” Sakamoto dubbed the Way of the Cobra: Lightning-fast offence, quick and relentless; suitable support only as a precaution to dull or evade any counterattack. In a disturbing show of irony, Skull was the first to fall to the Shadow’s twin blades. 

Noir followed, and then Fox. Both Joker and Queen tried to land an effective attack, but wound up hitting only air. Panther, incensed by her friends’ fall, unleashed an inferno of a flame directly at their foe. Alas, Rakshasa somehow managed to deflect the massive flame shot to Oracle’s trajectory, making the airborne navigator land in a crash. Daunted by sudden turn of her attack, Panther was unprepared to dodge the Shadow’s follow-up. But at seeing his beloved Ann in peril, Mona leapt to take the hilt for her, effectively putting himself out of combat. A bitter, lead-like taste of witnessing futility tainted the palate for Joker and Queen, as Panther was knocked out immediately after, regardless. 

All of that happened in less than a minute. 

Something curious about this Rakshasa in particular. Its behaviour was far different from most others. Despite being equipped with the same twin blades, it wielded them far more competently, gracefully even. It moved much quicker, and executed its attacks with incredible skill. A frighteningly efficient demon assassin – fitting counterpart for an experienced mercenary. But despite how it flaunted its credentials, none of the hits it delivered looked lethal. Either with the hilt of a sword, or the flat side of it, each blow was meant only to incapacitate, to remove each foe from the fight without causing further damage.

Something that went against the nature of a Shadow borne from carnage. It was as if it held back, as if Yohei Kiritani himself unconsciously held back in the battlefield. 

“Phantom Thieves.” It spoke. “I know what you are thinking. You are thinking why would I go through the bother of just putting each of you down without killing you.” 

It spun, taking its eyes off of Joker and focusing on Queen. Despite having turned its back on the Leader, this was not an opening – and they both knew it.

“You see. I don’t think your lives are worth ending here, like this, in my hands.”

“Why is that?” Queen got him to continue talking. Joker knew she was quick to pick up on the flow of things. In battle, she was more than a powerful attacker, she was also a deft analyst, and as good a judge of character as she was in the world above. 

The leader thought quickly. A head-on attack would most likely end in failure. They could try and revive their defeated friends, but Joker did not know if he had the necessary energy for that, and if he did, there was no guarantee he would not be putting his friends in the line of fire once again. Furthermore, if his memory served him right, Rakshasa had the means to eliminate them all if they were to corner it. For example, he could focus all of its strength into one single, definite attack. Considering the strength and range it exhibited, it could take them out in one single swoop.

Unless…

Joker grinned, finding one small object in particular in his slacks’ pocket. Under the right circumstances, it could turn the tide in a definite way. These were not the right circumstances, so he had to create them.

“Because you are like me.” The Shadow had no visible mouth, but something about its voice hinted at a smile, a confident, doubtless smile.

“We do not kill, Kiritani-san.” Queen said firmly. 

“You and I target the cancers that plague society. We both work towards ridding the country from evil men. How you and I go about it does not matter.”

“Or does it?” Joker fetched the Shadow’s attention. In the minuscule interval it took Rakshasa to turn around, Joker gambled a sign for Queen to see. He had an idea – a risky plan that would put him directly under the Shadow’s offensive. Judging by her expression behind the Shadow’s back, she understood what he meant, and did not like it at all.

By now, she knew he was not one to go back on its decisions. He made it very clear to her when he admitted that her feelings for him were not unrequited. Her initial worries and fears were met by unabashed certainty. And if not to her alone, he made it clear by his commitment to his friends and comrades from even before she thought to notice him. Considering it all, it was all the more concerning that his plan – or the start of it – consisted of baiting his attacks. 

But the subtleties of his face, even if concealed beneath the mask, spelled absolute faith in her. She trusted him with so much; her torments, her history, and her heart. And he lovingly carried it all with no hesitation, infallibly so. And here he was now, essentially trusting her with his life. Under the tension of it all, Queen did not see this as a fair trade. She would scold him for this when they returned – because she knew they would. 

But the message was incomplete. 

“It does not matter. These gangsters. They prey on all, even on elders, and children… Don’t get me started on the children.”

“But it does matter.” Makoto pressed him. “However much of a scourge they are, we cannot – no, we must not, stoop down to the same means as them.” 

There it was, another part of the message: a hand gesture with no words – a finger first pointing at him, then at her, and back at him again. 

“There is no stooping down, young lady! This is what I do! This is what I’ve done all my life! It is my nature, my history. You don’t need to ever get your hands dirty like this, but I - I will take this blade and I will plunge it into the black heart of the scum!”

Another sign. Stand by. Joker felt the very palpable weight of one object in particular stored in his pocket. 

“But have you stopped to think of the consequences?” Joker made him turn again. “All this bloodshed. It will solve nothing. Really, you’re just going to make it worse. They will want retaliation, but it won’t be you they’ll turn their blade on.”

“It will be the general populace, the civilians, elders, and yes, children even.” The gambit pulsated with sincerity despite its design to distract. “You do not hesitate to kill. And neither will they.”

“What is the endgame then, Kiritani-san?” 

“What will be your solution for the street war you will unleash?”

The final sign. Go.

“Then I will simply need to kill them all!” Rakshasa lunged forward once more.

Joker summoned Arsene, immediately unleashing tendrils of black smoke after materialising from the ehter. It was a weak means of attack, but its sound masked that of Queen calling forth Anat, and it was something he could consistently with what little energy remained in him. On her part, Queen had more alternatives; virtually everything in her skillset could cover any intended purpose. The anger amassed in her heart called for her to attack while the Shadow had its back to her, though that would only prove futile; fear urged her to try and heal their teammates and aim for escape, but chances of success were minimal considering Rakshasa’s speed.

Instead she listened to patience and trust; and what precious little energy she had in store, she used to raise Joker’s defences should his evasive manoeuvres mistime. Her role afterwards would not be simply praying for success. She joined in the strategy by letting Anat swipe his attention towards her, just to give Joker a few seconds to catch his breath. 

Arsene swooped in with a claw to take Rakshasa off of Anat’s back for a moment. Anything with the semblance of an attack was truly just a mockery, a jab with hardly any strength behind it, but quick enough to leave room between the Persona and the Shadow. Little by little, Joker’s plan started to make more sense to Queen, and the gamble looked secure by the time the Shadow became frustrated and angry.

The poking and teasing between Arsene and Anat continued until every slash was followed by a cavernous growl. Finally, the demon ceased its barrage, and instead prepared for the final assault, one that would wipe both the leader and his lieutenant. It was the calm before the storm. A breath before the carnage. 

Joker felt every adrenaline-drenched second in the beating of his heart. The time was now. 

He commanded Arsene to unleash all of its hellish bale into one legitimate attack on the Shadow. Joker knew it would be ineffectual, but damaging Rakshasa was not the intended outcome. The adversary turned towards him, enraged, fully meaning to devote this final slash to him – there was no holding back this time. 

The Shadow roared furious. Its blades both collided with Joker’s frame. Judging by their trajectory and force, the result would be a three-sectioned Akira Kurusu, decapitated and split at the waist, his expression frozen forever in that smirk that sent a jolt into Makoto Niijima’s blood. At that moment, Queen thought of what she saw, and she wanted nothing more than to cover her eyes and never open them again. 

But she did not blink, not even for an instant. Relief took a while to take over the nauseating effect of terror, as the impact of Rakshasa’s blades turned on the Shadow instead. Joker was intact. The demonic casing of Yohei Kiritani’s Shadow fell soundly defeated, and between them, tiny shards of a broken mirror – some mystical artefact designed to reflect the force of physical impact with equal velocity and intensity. 

The distortion in Yohei Kiritani was no more. The product of his unwillingness to face the demons of his past as a contract killer marked another heart changed before it developed a Palace. The terrible outcomes of his actions as a vigilante were averted. Queen knew all of this, but was concerned with none of it. All her eyes cared to register was that Joker was still alive. 

She ran up to him, and held him so tightly that even her own breath was stifled. Joker, on his part, was not to underestimate Queen’s strength. But despite the pain, she could not help but put his arms around her as well. 

“We did it, Queen.” 

“Shut up. Shut up, shut up. Never do that again. Never put yourself in danger like that again.”

“I won’t.” Joker smiled like a child.

“I said shut up. Just… just kiss me, you damn idiot.” The last thing Makoto would have thought she wanted or needed at this point was to feel his breath in hers. So cliché, so trite. But if there was a more concrete, a more indisputable way to confirm his survival, she could not think of any. And if she did, it was too late to turn back now.

The Shadow, liberated from its corruption, could not help but smile, endeared about the display of affection unfolding before his eyes. His days of killing were over. Things would unfold as they will, for better or worse. But if there was something he still protested was the dominion of modesty in Japanese society, especially when it came to people who intensely cared for each other. As he faded from view, back into the man’s heart, he privately wondered what would a Phantom Thief become as they grew older, living in this twisted world.

[ ]

The ride back home felt quicker than anticipated, even if the group discussed the need for new tactics when it came to Shadows down in Mementos. No longer could they underestimate an adversary. They did not know it at the time, but this new tactical perspective would prove vital for the weeks to come. There would be no braving to the cognitive underworld the following day; from this latest experience, some rest and relaxation was in order. Akira Kurusu felt the urge to visit the Shibuya Underground in search for Kiritani-san, if only to wish him well. 

He was not entirely wrong, after all. Perhaps, from a very skewed perspective, they truly were kindred spirits. The memory of the man would inevitably return for reflection, days, months, years ahead. 

But for now, he would lay in bed, getting an early night, still feeling the ache in his ribs. But it did not hurt – not at all. Before going under the weight of sleep, he felt a boyish joy in wondering whether Makoto was thinking about him at the end of such a long day.

She was.


End file.
